Buscando Domino
by Julchenawesomesauce
Summary: A pirate without a ship is powerless. A pirate trying to regain his power is dangerous. And a pirate who plans to break you by any means is ruthless. Very dark Pirate!Spain, PriestessFem!Romano. Eventual very dark themes, swearing, violence, threats of/possible rape. Based off a roleplay.
1. Chapter 1

Wood splintered off, seemingly from nowhere in a mess of smoke and dust, some chips large enough to slice at skin while others blinded enraged crew members along with other rubbish the canon ball bestowed upon the Spanish ship. Heavy led making reasonable damage with each hit landed on the oak. It's captain, Antonio Carriedo Fernandez, stood in the middle of it all; watching his men fire shots of their own and fend off blood-thirsty Englishmen wielding swords and guns; he himself having fought off the ones that dared approach him albeit quite beat up as a result. He could only watch in disgust as another canon ball shot through the thick air, this time closer to his position, successfully throwing him a fair distance across the deck leaving him far more battered than he'd ever admit. A particularly loud crash and several voices yelling obscenities along with his name was the last he could remember before his body plunged into the icy waters of the Atlantic ocean.

A few hours later, though Antonio could've sworn he had been drifting in the salty water for months, his eyes cracked open to be met by blinding midday light, burning his already tanned skin mercilessly to the point that small splashes of water felt painfully relieving. The cold was appreciated, but the salt was less than pleasant on his irritated skin.

"Mierda... mi cabeza... (Shit... my head...)" Antonio groaned to himself as he clung to the drift wood his body attached itself to subconsciously in the midst of passing out. He could feel his broken limbs protest when he shifted his position to a more comfortable state, his chest resting at the center of the wooden plank as a small wave turned him south. Years of living in the seas gave him the advantage of stabilizing himself in the rocky waters and a sense of direction; at least he hoped so, not knowing how disoriented he was left him guessing the direction in which he was led. Green eyes snapped open wider than they'd ever gone since he'd woken up upon catching a glimpse of a dot in the distance. Land?! In a sudden burst of eagerness when the Spaniard attempted to sit up for a better look, he placed too much weight on the wood and was sent underwater again. Brilliant.

A growl left Antonio's lips at his foolishness after he resurfaced with a stinging face, particularly his eyes. Using the same burst of energy to get a head start into what he hoped to be an island inhabited or not, maybe even a town, but that was wishful thinking- hell, anything with food would suffice at that point. Fending off mounds of seaweed, avoiding anything that looked hungry within the depths of the water and jelly fish was the last thing he hoped for when he floated and paddled to his destination.

The sun was close to setting by the time he reached the shore; he was ready to become a merman by then, to say the least. Exhausted and not in the best of moods, the fallen captain clawed his way through the thick sand of the shore, footprints were visible and he could hear distant chatter and laughter; greeting the noise with a middle finger to the air in irritation. Fatigue and hunger did that to people. When no one approached him, probably in fear that he'd be a cannibalistic fish-man of sorts, Antonio took it upon himself to haul his battered body up and travel into the town, wet drags and all. It didn't dawn upon him how lucky he'd been not to encounter more than seaweed and jellyfish on his less-than-pleasant swim to the Italian village. The only way he knew it was Italian was by the similarity to Spanish in the signs he saw, fancy bastards just couldn't accept _his_ language for what it was. They just had to feel special by adding o's and i's where they didn't belong, the pirate thought bitterly as he kicked a rock out of his way, regretting it moments later when the stinging hurt reminded him he wasn't wearing shoes.

"Fantastico." A scowl tugged at his lips as he neared a bakery, the treats were mouthwatering and he had half a mind of robbing the place; had he had his trusty gun with him, Antonio would've. He wasn't above scaring people into giving him what he wanted. And those doughnuts were it.

Without knowing it, he stood at the window gawking at the mouthwatering treats, begging to be eaten by the all-too eager man who was nearly drowning in his own want for food. In his state, it was hard to notice a small, auburn haired woman graciously making her way through the crowd of busy Italians as though she owned the place.

Lovina wasn't scowling. That was just the expression her face naturally fell into. She didn't mind going into town to shop too much. She actually rather liked it. The problem was that she disliked needing to go like she was a common servant. She was a servant to her Lord and no one else. She sure as Hell wasn't going to serve any mortal. But her little fratello had eaten most of the food remaining in the church pantry and they wouldn't have enough for the rest of the day. They had people to serve to, after all. And trying to explain to her brain-dead sibling that not everyone on the planet wanted pasta for every meal was a waste of breath. Besides, if nothing else, she wanted more tomatoes. Could never have too many tomatoes.

She adjusted her hood around her neck, trying to keep the worst of the sun off her skin. Her skin didn't need any more sun, it was already a lightly tanned olive. Unlike most women, she wore her hair down in long auburn waves, one odd curl off to one side. Her hair was her glory and her only possible vanity – at least to herself. Conceit wasn't something she knew of, never really noticing how young men sometimes gaped at her in the street at her smoldering gold eyes and angelic face. She ignored them all. What did she need to do with them? Even if she paid attention, their efforts to win her would be fruitless. Never serving a mortal man and all that.

It had its advantages though. Lovina was very well known, though not as much as her brother. People never spoke of her as glowingly as they did her brother either. However, she was the more intimidating of the two, so people respected her as a lady of God and as a testy young woman the same. As she wandered through the streets, looking for the needed venders, she never made eye contact with anyone and no one tried to look her dead in the eyes either. Lady of God or not, her temper was still a force to be reckoned with. People said sometimes that she had the spirit of God in her, certainly; she was the wrath of God incarnate.

"Where the hell is the fruit stand? Did they move again, dammit?" Lovina cursed under her breath. Her mouth was to be feared as well. She bit her lip, looking around in annoyance. She wanted to get back as soon as possible, she had food to deliver. People swarmed all around her, always giving her the space she demanded, but something was off. They looked… spooked. Eyes were wider, children were skittish and the adults were wary. Now the little Italian was curious as well. Nothing bad ever happened around here. Come to think of it, there had been some very faint sounds the other night, explosions maybe, but… from very far away, barely noticeable. What was wrong now?

She walked faster, striding forcefully down the road that eventually led to the shore. The shops had thinned out down there, but people were looking more frightened and moving away faster as she got closer to the edge of the town. No one was running or anything, so it wasn't dire. Eventually, she broke through the crowd and lo and behold was the source of the anxiety among the townspeople.

He was a young man with tanned skin and dark hair and deep green eyes. His clothing was torn and damp and lined with seaweed. He was staring intently at the bakery. The problem wasn't just with his savage appearance. Upon closer inspection, his clothing wasn't just torn, it was positively shredded. Where there was no fabric, there were deep cuts into his skin, still red but long since devoid of blood. And his eyes. Lovina felt her heart stop. They were animalistic. Violent. She was a little scared.

She forced herself to take a step back and look at him. This man obviously needed something. He was injured and possibly starving, seeing how his eyes were trained on the food inside. Lovina knew the father wouldn't like it if she did nothing. This was part of her Christian duty and all that. She took a cautious few steps forward and made her voice as forceful as it always was. "Ehi, tu. Hai bisogno di aiuto o qualcosa del genere? Hai un aspetto di merda." (Hey, you. Do you need help or something? You look like shit.) Well, she still had her mouth.

~~~

Having been too caught up in fantasizing about sinking his teeth into the freshly baked goods, he didn't notice the people scampering around him or trying to avoid him, even if he had, he'd probably sneer at them or give them a real reason to fear him. A voice, sharp like a blade but sounding like bells broke him from his thoughts; just when he had a plan of breaking into the bakery down to five basic steps too. "Que?"(What?) His own heavily accented voice broke the silence that settled upon the pair among a sea of an anxious crowd. Still oblivious to the townspeople's obvious discomfort, he leaned against the wall, eyeing up the unknown female. She was... stunning to say the least. Anyone who knew a pirate- or any male deprived of intimacy for longer than a month, being stuck on a boat with large sweaty men only gave you so many options, would know that a man's first desire is contact. And what better way for that than by grabbing one of the long strands of hair swaying tauntingly in the wind?

Slender, dark fingers tangled themselves into the nearest lock of hair he could reach, using it to tug her closer to him despite his less-than appealing state; Antonio was confident in his appearance. Whether he looked like he'd been mauled by a bear or not. "Quien eres tu?"(Who are you?) The obvious language barrier was bound to get in the way, being far too proud to use the language of his enemy left the Spaniard at a disadvantage. Most other nations knew English, he didn't doubt this small city did as well.

"Hablas Español, nena?"(Do you speak Spanish, babe?) A smirk followed his words suggestively, leaning closer to her until he could smell the very faint, but still evident scent of flowers and wood, most likely from the woods or her home. He briefly wondered if he'd manage to get to her home, or food for that matter. While ladies were top of his list he couldn't do much with a starving stomach or rags for clothes. Speaking of which… hazy eyes traveled south to him. The dark red cloak he'd taken the time to demand the best tailor of his land to make and sew accordingly so was no more, it looked as though he'd thought it'd be a good idea to tie a blanket around him and then left it out in the rain. At least his pants were still intact, only several rips near the pant legs, the ends worn down from constant wear.

After receiving no more than a glare for a response, he gave the long, dark lock a harsh tug, forcing her closer to him until they were pressed flushed against each other, one smirking and the other attempting to glare a hole into the instigator's head.

"Que paso, estas muda?" (What happened, are you mute?) He teased once more, slowly becoming infuriated at the lack of response. His grumbling stomach wasn't helping much either, it seemed today just wasn't one of his best. No, that was an understatement, today sucked for the normally cheery Spaniard, never mind his happiness was derived from other's pain and conquering.

So he could hear her. Whether he could speak coherently was a different matter. He was saying something, but she couldn't piece together exactly what he was saying. Spanish, huh? Lovina knew a little Spanish. It was somewhat common around here, and she could converse pretty well. However, a lot of what he was saying was lost on her. The problem wasn't that she didn't know what he was saying. She figured it out quite clearly from the way he was eyeing her and what the fuck was he doing? Lovina had no idea what happened, but he grabbed her hair and pulled her to him and oh shit, she didn't like people touching her hair!

Before she could slap him, she was pulled against him and trying to figure out what he was saying again. Espanol? That meant Spanish, right? She was a little distracted by how he was eyeing her, sizing her up just as hungrily as he had been staring at the food. Lovina was torn between confusion, repulsion and fury. What in God's name was he doing? She glared daggers at him, half hoping that staring at him enough would cause him to burst into flames. She should be so lucky.

He kept on getting closer and her anger dissipated ever so slightly for on setting discomfort. She had never been this close to a man. Ever. It was freaking her out and his constant yanking on her God damn curl wasn't helping! It felt odd and she didn't like it. He said something else in that foreign tongue of his and his voice was getting scarier. She had already let this go on too far.

She snapped out of it very suddenly, tearing his hand away from her hair and gritting her teeth. As soon as his hand was away from her, she slapped him (backhand) across the face roughly. "Non mi toccare, cagna! (Don't touch me, bitch!)" she spat, pushing him back fiercely. "Cosa diavolo c'è di sbagliato in te? (What the hell is wrong with you?)" The few townspeople still around were looking on with mixed nervousness and amusement. This was going to be good. He was playing with fire and they all knew it.

"Io non so chi cazzo ti credi di essere, ma è meglio non toccare mai cazzo me again o io giuro a Dio … (I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you better not ever fucking touch me again or I swear to God…)"

There it was... a response, he was getting closer and closer until- A stinging sensation not unlike the one of the ocean splashing his face struck him, only this time with deliberate strength and sharp nails. He all but grunted as he stepped back in shock, the hit hurt yes but after having swords try to skewer you and bullets embed themselves to your body; more specifically your shoulder which still has a stringing scar that refuses to cease its fury no matter how many treatments you apply to it, the least of your worries is a prissy lady with a knack for making your face her next punching bag.

"Carajo!"(Fuck!) Antonio hissed, the hand that had been toying with the angsty woman's hair shot up to clasp his stinging cheek; finally seeing their tactics caught several onlooker's attention. Seizing his opportunity, the crafty pirate smeared the blood from one of his still fresh wounds over his nose to play the slap off as an act of unreasonable violence against him, a suddenly weak, starving man with no shelter. At least that's the look he was aiming for when he feigned hurt and fell against the side of the bakery's wall with an asserted grunt, hoping to earn at least one passerby's sympathy, maybe even his attacker's.

If he couldn't force his way into a home, he'd guilt his way there; pride wasn't too much of a concern in this small village. He highly doubted anyone recognized him- and frankly he had more than enough reasons to be vulnerable if they did.

"Ay, por favor," (Ah, please) Antonio began in a much more humble tone than he first spoke to the fuming Italian with, hanging his head in a way that made him cringe inwardly. His pride was definitely bruised. Had it been under any other circumstance, the Spanish captain would've gone with his first plan and ransacked the store before anyone knew what happened. Alas, luck would have it that he be stuck playing a kicked puppy, promising himself to get back at the violent female as soon as he had the chance.

No one laid a hand on him and got away unscathed.

"No mas ocupo un lugar para descansar..." (I only need a place to rest…) Green eyes peered over the thickness of his fringe, now clinging to his damp forehead with some strands poking at his eyes, looking up at the relatively calmer girl. He could see the suspicion in her eyes, it was almost as evident as the lies swimming in his, still, if she was like every other woman he'd met she'd be eating out of the palm of his hand, helping him up and pampering him if only to keep her image to the public. Normally he despised them, the fake and malicious type of devils who disguised themselves behind a smile as fake as their breasts and a face coated in makeup as if it would hide their souls' imperfections; quite frankly she didn't seem to fit the bill. Of course he knew nothing about her, not her name or her attitude but judging by her vicious attack, he wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't an accident that people stirred free of her even then. On any other given day he would've hoped she was different but given his position, he could only pray she would follow through with the silent standards he bestowed upon her and give in to his play.

"Por favor..." (Please...) This time, he looked directly at her, green eyes flashing malicious intent briefly to assure her there was plenty awaiting her; before returning to their audience in a victimized look of hurt.


	2. Chapter 2

Lovina stared at her hand for a split second in utter surprise, then back at his face. Had she really slapped him so hard as to draw blood? No, she hadn't, had she? And if she had, was she pleased at this or not? He deserved it. Still though, Lovina very rarely drew blood from anyone. It was already looked down upon for her to be 'attacking' someone like that anyway without her hurting someone badly enough. She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to see what exactly she had done. Looking as close as she could without getting any closer to him, her eyes started to glow with anger again. The blood on his face hadn't come from her slap. That little fucking liar. Lovina clenched her fists at her side, staring at him furiously again. Where was a bolt of lightning when you needed one? She had a good mind to kick him in the chest and going on her merry way and she was about to do it too. She didn't suffer fools well. Just as she was about to give this asshole something to really whimper about, she was suddenly aware that she wasn't alone with him. Glancing around warily, she saw several people looking at the two with dismay. They were looking at the man with pity and her with shock.

God damn him. They thought she had hurt him. Lovina's eyes went wide with horror. They were all looking at her and thinking she had attacked this man. Everyone knew she was temperamental, but no one had ever seen her strike someone like this. The looks he was giving the people around them were only serving to make it worse for her. That crafty little asshole. He looked back at her suddenly and their eyes locked for one second. Her breath got caught in her throat at the look in his eyes.

They stared into hers angrily, almost evilly. She almost felt burned by the malevolence that seared into her for only a heartbeat before he turned away. Looking over the crowd desperately one more time, she felt her heart drop. She didn't have the option of turning away from him now that he had the sympathy of the townspeople. She closed her eyes, knowing where this was going and despising it. The brunette turned back to him angrily. She didn't care if he frightened her. She wasn't going to let him know that.

"Speak English, you son of a bitch," she snarled. Not everyone around them knew English well, so it was the safest way she could continue to insult him. Knowing herself, she'd probably maim him if she couldn't get her fury out with words. Then the townspeople would really have something to talk about.

A smirk tugged at the fallen man's lips, he just won this game but he could feel the killer intent behind her fiery eyes; frankly, he couldn't wait to show her just what he was capable of as well. The smile was immediately wiped off his face upon hearing the blasted language, almost sure his ears would bleed by the sheer sound of it. He despised English almost as much as being belittled, suppose there was no other way to communicate with his little flower though; was there?

"That's no way to treat someone in my position," amusement coated his words, contrasting the hurt mask he put to the public though judging by her confidence, he was sure not too many knew what either parties were saying. "I wonder if I could have you arrested for assault…" He was only bluffing of course, the last thing he needed was law enforcement on his hide about one thing or another, if they got their hands on him there was no doubt he was in for a less-than pleasant life.

"Why don't you help me up then, before your little friends' jaws break off their skulls?"

After a few moments, the Hispanic male figured she wouldn't go near him any time soon, leaving him to pull himself up with the help of the wall for a better effect, "Ay..." Antonio groaned, resting his head against the glass where the delicious treats were put on display, "I don't think I can go on..."

He was bargaining with the devil himself, but confidence was key in the game; something the Spanish captain practically bled and sweat throughout his life, gaining more with each try. "You'll just have to take me in, less you be hated by your town. Wouldn't that be a shame, amor?"(Love- used in an endearing sense) Antonio grinned lopsidedly at her, soft enough to pass off as any given expression to their watchers.

"Oh shut the fuck up," she growled, stepping back from him. "I don't give a shit about your 'condition'." There was no way in hell she was touching him, no way at all. If he was bodily capable of making a move on her and putting on a performance for the townspeople, than he was perfectly capable of walking, she figured. His words worried her a little though. He was completely determined to twist her around his finger, and he knew how to do it. Lovina had more to lose than he did with people around and her reputation at stake. His threat of arrest was more plausible than she would like as well. In just a few moments, he was blackmailing her. She didn't really have any options here other than to do what he requested. Her face flushed in anger at the idea of taking him in. He was going to pay for this.

She stiffened at the endearment. She knew what that meant. Lovina glared at him, her eyes feeling like they could spit fire at the rat bastard. "Don't. Call. Me. That. Ever. Again." she snarled. She wanted to slap him again. She had never wanted to slap someone more in her life, slap that stupid, annoying, arrogant grin off his face. Feeling his skin under her hand like that would be unbelievably satisfying. Her fists were balled so tight, her nails were digging into her palms and drawing blood. 'God, grant me the self-restraint I so need…'

Take him in. This was insanity. She didn't want this man so close to her, near her brother, in her home. He was manipulating and aggressive and seemed incredibly dangerous. Not to mention she didn't trust him near her at all. She could be putting the entire church at risk. How could she justify this to herself, to her brother and father and Lord?

But wasn't this her calling? She tilted her head, scrutinizing him. He was dirty and injured and hungry and possibly not in his right mind. (She could only hope.) Despite his behavior, maybe something could be brought out of this. He had obviously lost his way. She was perhaps a little rough around the edges, but she was a servant of God and it was her mission to help other souls on the path to righteousness. Wasn't this what her entire life had been telling her to do? He did need help and he needed salvation. Maybe she could reform him. Maybe she could save his soul. If he even had one left.

Lovina abruptly stepped back, refusing to look at the people around them, still judging her. "Bene, (Fine,)" she muttered. She had no choice. "You going to come or what?" She spun around and arranged her basket, starting to walk off without another word.

Bingo.

Large hands shoved themselves into the pockets of his pants, only now noticing how cold the breeze of the ocean was becoming, and dropping degrees by the millisecond as night neared. The Sea was a cruel mistress after all, lashing out even when one wasn't disturbing her.

Olive orbs drifted from narrowing crowd most having lost interest long ago and now going on their merry way to finish their daily duties, unlike her, he had no reason to avert his gaze; turning to the back of the Italian girl- Lovina, he'd heard one of the people whisper. Their 'subtle' voices loud enough for anyone listening to understand, these people meant nothing but trouble. He could smell it from a mile away.

For some reason, he felt somewhat protective of her, their words varying from admirable to sharp; the tanned man didn't like the idea of anyone else giving her hell. Not his new toy.

"Si, of course," Antonio chirped, an extra bounce to his step as he caught up to the silently fuming red-head, not bothering to hide his full blown grin at that point. How could he? Anyone in his position would've jumped for joy, not only had he outsmarted the snarky, proud woman, but he'd be tended to by her. This opened up numerous opportunities for the eager Spaniard, none were overly perverse, in fact he was only thankful for company tonight. Someone who didn't reek of week-old fish, sweat, and blood. Oh, and definitely not someone who was holding a gun to his temple, though at this point it was certain that's exactly what Lovina was wishing for.

"So... come here often?" He tried the oldest line in the book once they were a safe distance away from any people, he briefly wondered if they were going to the woods where they'd try to kill each other in a battle and where they could hide the body without risking it being found. Amusing as the thought was, Antonio didn't particularly feel like dying that day, and he certainly wasn't done playing with his new toy. He decided to stay on her good grace for just a moment longer.

"Si," Lovina deadpanned. She did come here quite often, living here and all, thank you very much. She tried to stay just a step or two in front of him, refusing to make eye contact with him. Or for that matter, refusing to speak to him more than just minimally necessary. Just because she had succumbed to his ploy didn't mean she had to be happy about it. Walking through the town, she held herself no different than when she was alone, with an air of isolation and independence, although she was getting different looks now. People were looking at her more warily than normal, their gazes flickering back and forth between her and her tagalong. There was more space between her and them, the presence of the stranger confusing and frightening. It was probably just as well. She didn't want any more attention from this and she didn't want their questions.

For the rest of the walk, Lovina refused to make any kind of conversation with him, cutting off any attempts on his part to speak to her. She had more important things on her mind than his amusement. Like, for instance, what she was going to do with this man. There was probably a spare room in the church somewhere. But that was the least of the issue. He was filthy. He was going to need new clothes, and a bath. She was not getting involved with that. As much as she brushed it off, he was definitely injured as well. Like it or not, she was going to have to dress his wounds. They raised a very obvious question – what the HELL happened to him?! That was a question she was going to demand an answer to. Later. What else did she need to worry about? Food, of course. She wasn't able to buy anything today with this little disaster going on. They would probably survive to tomorrow though, knowing her brother and his gift for cooking. Oh Dio, her little brother. That was a problem too. She was going to have to explain this to him and make it perfectly clear that he was not to associate with this man. But he never really listened to her anyway, annoying little twerp.

While ignoring her charity case, Lovina looked over the buildings leading up to the other end of town. The church steeple was just coming into view. The church wasn't eh biggest or grandest place ever, but it was where she had grown up since she was small. She couldn't tell whether she was anxious to get home or terrified to be there at the prospect of all she had to do. Hopefully she could avoid her brother long enough to get him situated, then explain as slowly and simply as possible elsewhere.

She sped up her pace towards the church, not giving a single fuck if she was leaving him behind.

Several pebbles, three puddles, and what felt like a bed of nails later, Antonio called it quits trying to avoid the dangers of the ground and came to the conclusion that his feet would look like ground beef by the end of the night. This didn't put him in a grand mood either, having quit trying to make conversation with Lovina at around the same time; he settled for watching her speed ahead of him. On purpose.

"Pendeja...(Bitch…)" He growled under his breath, blood boiling after the third time she sped up- oddly enough, it was in quick bursts of energy as if she were being wound up and then let go of. What the hell was she thinking about that she didn't hear him, or feel his presence for that matter, as he slid behind her?

No matter. As the silhouette of the church- or so he guessed by the large cross at center of the tallest roof- the Spanish man made his first assault; this time without holding back. His large hands wrapped their way around her neck in a firm hold, his intention not to strangle her, but enough to keep her from crying out as their bodies slammed to the nearest wall; resulting in a thundering thud.

"Who do you think you are?" Thickly laced with a Spanish accent, his words were hissed into her ear emphasized with a small squeeze of her throat.

"For someone so confident, slapping men around, you don't look it now." Antonio sneered, licking his lips before sinking his teeth into the outer shell of her ear, back in the ship; his crew members did something along these lines (albeit far more viciously) to claim dominance upon their conquest, in bed or otherwise. The nip wasn't sharp enough to draw blood, though if he'd applied just a singe of excess pressure it would've been a different story. Perhaps he was a bit on the sexist side, juuuust a bit.

He waited long enough to hear a strangled groan, usually made as a second or third stage of suffocation, he couldn't remember, as it'd been far too long since he'd done this to anyone; before deeming it a proper time to release her neck. Long fingers quickly found their way into the gasping woman's hair, yanking at it to meet her gaze. "Listen to me, and listen to me well because I'm not going to repeat myself. I can be your worst nightmare, or your enemy; you don't want both. I suggest you go inside, get food, clothes and a bed ready for me before I lose my temper and have your people pay for it."

The words rolled off his tongue like a song, not missing a heartbeat with their venom seeping from his tongue, it felt good to be in control again.


	3. Chapter 3

She was stupid.

She was so stupid.

She had turned her back on him and she was paying the price. Why hadn't she seen it coming?

Either way, she had turned her back on him. And now, in the cloak of dusk in the shadow of the church, he had caught her by surprise. Before she knew anything, she couldn't breathe. His hands were at her neck and before she could try to pry them off, or for that matter, even comprehend what was going on, she was crushed against a wall, him pressed against her and struggling to breathe.

The pupils of her eyes dilated to pinpricks as she tried to breathe; trying to fight him off didn't even seem like an option at this point. Lovina didn't really hear the first thing he said, panic and utter fear clouding her senses too much. However, her pain receptors seemed to be working just fine as she attempted to gasp in pain at his teeth biting into her ear. She couldn't even gasp, all she could do was produce a choked whimper. Her vision was just getting fuzzy as she tried for one more ragged breath and was fighting not to pass out when suddenly her neck was free. Just as she was taking sweet air into her lungs again he had her turned around painfully by her hair and was forcing her to look at him. Lovina couldn't breathe again. His eyed were almost pitch black with malice and they were pinning her down again. She gulped, her throat going completely dry as he gave her his instructions – and his threat. Shaking, she nodded as quickly as her terrified body would let her. With all the strength she possessed, Lovina tore herself away from his slightly weakened grasp, turning her face away from him as she stumbled along the wall into the church.

His words had burned into her mind as she sank to the floor against the door, grasping her head in her hands and trying to steady her shaking body. She had never been so scared in her entire life. Ever. She looked up at the golden statue in front of the chapel. 'Please help me, please help me, please help me…'

What were her options? She wanted to run. If it was a viable option for her to leave right this moment, she would. But her brother was here. That man had indirectly threatened her brother who she would never admit to loving more than life itself. After what he had just done, there was no doubt in her mind that he would kill him. She could never let that be a possibility as long as she was alive. Like he had before, he had her pinned completely. She had no choice but to once again do whatever he asked.

Still trembling violently, Lovina forced herself to stand and start walking towards the back stairwell that would lead to an empty bedroom. Faster, faster, until she was just about sprinting.

Back outside, Antonio let out a ragged breath, one he wasn't aware he had been holding until he moved to lean against the wall once Lovina was out of sight. It was then that the Spaniard noticed his condition; his wounds stung and his feet burned mercilessly from the constant movement across the rough terrain. He'd be sure to drag the next person to cross him, be it a crew member or villager, across the floor as a torture method. Frankly he wouldn't be surprised if that was already a daily treatment used on misbehaved prisoners. It certainly felt like a sufficient torture method. He closed his eyes with the help of his thumb and index finger, sliding from the bridge of his nose to the corners of the mossy hues. The mere thought of how irritated his body was only served to try his temper further. Where was the Italian wench? Knowing fully well it had been but a couple of minutes of waiting, Antonio decided to remain quiet for several moments longer, partially because there wasn't much else he could do. Quick as she was, he highly doubted the younger woman could do all that he asked in just a couple of minutes.

Despite his reasoning, Antonio still found himself curious and had begun looking around, finally realizing the reality of the situation and his surroundings. A snort of amusement left the pirate's lips the moment he caught sight of the cross, currently blocking his eyes from the unforgiving sun's rays of a mid-summer day in South Italy. The Spaniard was a Catholic at heart, he bore a cross around his neck for a reason, albeit most of his faith was lost in the treasure he'd gone to pursue- leaving his morals as well as his family behind in the jewel's favor. What began as a search to conquest for his nation's benefit quickly took a turn for the worst; his winnings and power getting the best of him.

Before his mind could wander further, the sound of movement in nearby shrubs caught his attention, alarming him more than he was willing to admit if only because he no longer had his gun on his person. Blasted ocean and its stupid waves, robbing people of their weapons when they clearly needed them for future invasions, didn't it know?  
"Alright, whoever you are. Get out here now and I'll consider sparing your life."  
He sincerely hoped whoever- or whatever was behind the greenery wasn't aware that his weapon was just a thick branch held behind his back. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them... because a piece of wood can only do so much damage.

When no reaction was made, not a giggle or a sniff, Antonio narrowed his eyes and drew himself closer to the area, balancing the splintered wood with one hand as he leaped forward.

A high pitched shriek, followed by a loud thud of a heavy Spaniard landing unceremoniously beside a young-looking boy with eyes as wide as saucers upon seeing the ragged man; who without a doubt must have looked like some swamp creature that washed up in the nearby woods, rebounded across the area, echoing enough times that Antonio almost had all the notes memorized in his head. Knowing no other way to make the screaming stop, he quickly clamped a hand down on the open mouth, digging the end of his stick into the stranger's neck. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but he looked familiar. Something about his hair- no. His nose..? Maybe his eyes...  
"Quien diablos eres?" (Who the devil are you?)

To her credit, Lovina had never moved faster in her life. Chores weren't exactly her forte, so the fact that she was even doing something was remarkable in itself. What were that bastards orders again? Bedroom, clothes, food. The bedroom part was easy enough. There was a spare high up in the chapel, in the bell tower and just below the steeple. It was a little dusty from disuse, but it was already made up decently and would do just fine, especially since the pirate didn't seem to be in a condition to have standards. Clothing was a tiny bit harder, since Lovina was obviously of the female persuasion and didn't exactly have tons of male clothing at her beck and call. Her brother's clothing would probably be too small, the boy being of a very petite frame. She was only slightly shapelier and perhaps a single inch taller, still rather short and slender. However, that issue could be remedied with a trip to the collection box. Every now and then, some gracious churchgoer with a little money to spare would donate their castoffs to them for the unfortunate that found their way there. As luck would have it, Lovina managed to find some men's clothing that should fit him decently. And if they weren't perfect, it was just too fucking bad.

Lovina's mind had started functioning again by the time she had gotten to the 'food' part of his command. She started to take her time just a bit more while she prepared a plate for him out of leftovers from lunch. Even though she didn't always look or seem it, Lovina was capable of being clever sometimes. That was, if time and necessity allowed. And if she wasn't being a lazy bitch like normal.

Ladling out some lukewarm pasta onto a plate (courtesy of her brother), her gaze happened to drift over to the medicine cabinet beside the kitchen door. Lovina was by no means a doctor. However, she had some basic first aid training for the wounded that came to their doorstep. And the pirate was in desperate need of medical attention. That wasn't exactly what she opened the cabinet for, though. Rummaging through some small jars for a moment, she came across something that could easily come in handy. These herbs were often used as a sedative. This could be useful. Glancing back and forth cautiously, Lovina swiped two leaves from the jar and ground them up carefully with a mortar, sprinkling the dust into his meal. If God was on her side right now, that bastard would pass out within a few minutes of eating. She could use the opportunity to tie him up for her own safety, maybe treating his wounds while he was out. And when he came to, he would already be bound so she could safely interrogate him.

She almost smirked, finishing his meal and carrying it outside. This was a pretty good plan, if she said so herself. But of course, her instant of smugness didn't last terribly long, stepping out the doors to find her… her… whatever the hell he was to her. She would rather die than think of him as a master.

Lovina had barely gotten out the door when she almost dropped her plate in horror. Standing before her was that bastard pirate. With his hands. Around. Her. Brother. One hand covering his mouth, the other digging something into his neck.

Everyone knew it was bad to have Lovina pissed off. But this. This was fury on a level even the fiery Italian hadn't experienced in an extremely long time, if ever. She dropped the plate, the dish breaking on impact, though some of the pasta somehow staying intact. Her fist curled tightly around the knife in her hand, seeing as she had brought utensils with her. Her eyes flashed like lightening as she stepped over the broken porcelain, coming up behind the pirate and suddenly wrapping an arm around his chest, pulling him back. Ew, she was touching him. But she felt a lot better about that in a moment, her other hand pressing the blade of the knife to his throat. She was barely even focused on her brother as he was released in the surprise of her attack. She just stared down at the pirate, her beautiful features twisted with ferocity that this BASTARD had DARED to even TOUCH her brother! "You do NOT touch him," she hissed into his ear, her tone getting louder with each second in her anger. "You get away from him RIGHT NOW or I swear to God that I WILL SLIT YOUR FUCKING THROAT!"

A snarl escaped from the elder's parched lips as the boy in his hold writhed and whimpered, curling smaller beneath him in fetal position, his frame shuttering and aching to break free the further Antonio pressed him into the ground. By then, he failed to realize the Italian woman was in their presence, too fixated on embedding the splintered fibers into the deliciously pale skin, irritated and threatening to spill just a few drops of blood, a little further... Until the piercing sound of a plate shattering caught his attention.  
"Ngh-!" before he was given time to react, slender fingers pressed a cold blade to his neck, unsure whether the strangled noise erupted from his own throat, or from his new toy; rather, the frightened mouse-like child who was now free to scamper away from Antonio and his attacker; ironic as the change of events was.

And flee he did, only influencing the Italian stereo-type further into his Spanish mind, giving him reason to smile- briefly at that, a knife to the throat wasn't as pleasant as he remembered.

"Little brother? I thought you two had something in common," he flashed a look over his shoulder at her, as much as the weapon would allow, that is, without plunging it further into his sun burnt skin. In all actuality, it was probably unlikely that his host could very well kill him with silverware, however, he had no doubt she would attempt it; promising a painful experience both for himself and for Lovina. He wasn't above striking a woman.

The yelling in his ear wasn't doing much to better his mood either, or so he learnt from the ringing in his ear once she finally ceased her string of hissed threats- he could have sworn he felt her tongue graze his ear somewhere between a curse and a shout, or was that his wishful thinking?

He decided not to voice his curiosity, deciding to save it for a later time.

"He's fine, I didn't do anything to him, see?" a wave of his hand motioned to the young boy a good ways away, the sound of a sob being the only response he received from him, not doing much to help prove his point, "…if he's crying it means he's alive." Antonio tried again, wincing when the kitchen knife was pressed harsher into him, "Easy! I'm sorry, okay?" hoping to appease get wrath, the Spanish captain held his hands up; plan two was shoving his elbow into her chest if she didn't let go. His patience only stretched so far.

The whimpers emanating from her little brother weren't doing much to calm her hellish fury at the man before her. If he had hurt him in any way, there would be hell to pay in every conceivable meaning of the word. She didn't respond to anything the Spaniard had said for a moment, instead diverting her attention to her brother. Feliciano was grasping his neck, curling against the wall with tears streaming down his face. Lovina grimaced. He cried all the time, but he was rarely this genuinely terrified. He was a complete pansy, but Lovina knew the difference between his everyday gripes and when he was in justifiable fear. She'd deal with him the moment she could. Unfortunately that couldn't be this second. "Feliciano," she ordered slowly, not moving her blade one inch from the pirate's neck, "Entrare. In questo momento." (Get inside. Right now.)

Feliciano's teary amber eyes glanced over the scene before him in confusion. He sniffled, trying to work out a question. Or many, in his talkative case. "Ma ... ma dimmi, sorella? Cosa sta succedendo? Chi è? Perché mi ha attaccato-" (But... but tell me, sister? What's going on? Who is he? Why did he attack me?)

"Dannazione, Feli!" (God dammit, Feli!) Lovina snapped. She had absolutely no patience for him right now. "Porta il tuo culo dentro e ascoltami per una volta nella tua vita cazzo stupido!" (Get your ass inside and listen to me for one fucking time in your stupid life!)

The terrified boy let out a squeak at his sister's harsh command and obeyed, bolting inside as fast as his legs could carry him. Lovina let out a breath and only then finally let her grip on him go slack. She slowly released the pirate man on her own accord, though her blade never went far from his neck. She kept the tip dragging lightly on his skin as she circled him so she could glare directly into his darkened eyes, a volatile clash of fiery gold and earthy green. "You listen to me," she growled, stepping closer to him. "You do not go near him. You do not harm him. I'm the only one you get to torture around here, got it? If you ever attempt to hurt him again, you will wake up with a kitchen knife in your sorry ass chest, assuming you ever do wake up again, capice?"

Delighted amusement sparked his vision upon seeing the fear flash in Feliciano's, as he learned was his name by the always graceful Lovina's tendency to yell, eyes. Antonio was sadistic, any form of discomfort from others- particularly who he deemed weak were enough to tickle him silly if he resented them enough. The matter at hand though was no laughing matter; he realized this when he still was not let off the hook, quite literally. He was reminded of this when the distinct sensation of metal against skin pronounced itself in a fluid motion, tailing Lovina's steps around him. His frame was obviously larger than hers, he could easily take her had it not been for the still lingering weapon held between them. The truth of the matter hit home hard, no, he hadn't made his point across earlier if this /pendeja/ was still trying to be the hero, harboring the audacity to threaten him. Clearly it was time to make a change and express the full effect of his burn. Glaring in distain at her equally furious expression, Antonio rose from his crouched position on the dusted outdoor floor, mindful of the knife caressing his neck- for now.

"For someone who preaches of protecting her brother, you sure do a pitiful job," venom dripped bitterly from each syllable his tongue lashed "Had you taken just a second longer, who knows what would have been of your brother. I very well intend on finishing the job, my dear." Despite her malicious promise of his demise, the Spanish man had made a habit of testing his limits, this was no exception. If anything, he found himself encouraged to emphasize his zero-tolerance policy.

Dark fingers sacrificed themselves to yank the blade from his throat, biting back a hiss of pain as a result of the pain the slicing produced. Regardless, the same fingers wrapped tightly around it whilst his free arm laced around the Southerner's petite waist, forcing her body flush against his. "It seems you've forgotten your place already. I'm not surprised, what else could I expect from a useless wench?"

He yanked their joined hands on the blade sharply at an angle that forced their heads to inch closer, enough that he was sure made it possible for Lovina to taste the salt of the sea on his breath.

"What am I going to do with you? And you don't even have my dinner." In all honestly, there was actual dismay in his tone; if he didn't get a bite of food then, he would make a meal out of someone's arm.

The last thing she wanted to think about was him going through with his promise. She blinked once, twice, trying not to let the idea cloud her senses. He was honestly threatening Feliciano again? Had he learned nothing from the knife at his throat? She was going to make him see that she was a force to be reckoned with. The mere implication of more harm befalling her brother, her only family, all she had on this mortal earth was in itself enough to drive her homicidal. She was about to inform him of this. But the sudden twisting of a knife and the heat of his body against hers said differently.

Her eyes went wide, trying to lean back in a futile attempt to get some distance between them. "Get your hands off of me," she hissed, getting cut off. Her demand lacked the force it might have had earlier anyway. Fear and desperation were seeping into her voice and she shut her mouth before she started sounding more pathetic. She held her breath too, not willing to inhale his scent, the thought of something reeking of him being in her was revolting. She pressed her lips together as he reaffirmed his orders.

"I HAD food," she eventually hissed through her gritted teeth. "Everything is ready, you fucking son of a bitch. But I can't do anything to satisfy you if you don't. Let. Go. Of. Me." She glared at him as harshly as she could manage, which wasn't very at this point. She just hoped he realized she was right.

The limb once clenched snugly around her mid-section slackened its vice grip to allow them both much needed distance for the time being. Curiosity having taken the best of him, he turned his eyes to the inevitable evidence of a spilled meal just a few, tantalizing feet away from them, near the door to the chapel.

It was unfortunately inedible, much to the hungry man's dismay. Had he no pride as big as his, he wouldn't have thought twice about launching himself onto the ant-infested pasta. It took all of his willpower not to groan in agony at sight of wasted food, failing to notice anything wrong with it under all the rubbish that coated it along with the sauce it was slathered in. Instead, his stomach did it for him; sounding similar to an angry mother bear who just witnessed her cubs being used as slippers by man himself. Having no doubt the hideous rumble wasn't only in his head, it was moments like those that Antonio thanked whoever was out there for his darker skin, it served its job well in masking the faint color that rushed to his cheeks in embarrassment. Hunger was considered a weakness, not so much human nature. The proud Spaniard would not have himself begging for food, let alone giving the woman the satisfaction of witnessing him in a lesser state.

Suppose it made little difference, he still wasn't presentable, he still didn't have his gun and he still wore only rags. With those bitter thoughts in mind, Antonio settled for tossing the knife aside, holding the bloodied hand out for Lovina to get a good gander of. "This will be the last and only blood you will ever see me shed," the former captain snarled, the events of the day finally getting the best of him.

Mere moments after soliciting his message, Antonio turned on his heel and clambered into the chapel, ignoring the obvious sound of scampering feet, no doubt belonging to the rat he caught earlier.

Wooden benches never looked more comfortable to him in all his twenty five years of life, in fact, as he found himself climbing onto the nearest one only mere moments after entering the stuffy room, he decided the benches must have been made of cotton. His body felt heavy, making it easy for him to lay lax, sprawled ungracefully across the seat. The high ceilings were decorated with stained glass that cast colorful shadows at the altar, some landing near the fatigued male's face, causing him to roll over with a loud groan of disapproval. He couldn't recall whether Lovina had specified the whereabouts of his room, or anything else aside from the /blasted/ screeching. A quality all women seemed to hold. He had seen Lovina in more tender moments- as tender as dragging him away from outside a crowded shop window went. But he'd also seen her in her weakest moments, looking frail and small under his calloused hands clamped around her.

Eventually, as his mind drifted along the memory of hazel eyes brimming with terror, Antonio fell into a near unconscious sleep; his body ready to rest for years if it were possible.


	4. Chapter 4

Lovina fell back from him as she was finally, mercifully released, looking over him with terror as he turned himself around to groan at the wasted food on the ground. She backed up quickly, disappointed that he still had the knife and not her. Only when he had his fill of being pissed at the spilled pasta did he turn to her again, causing her to catch her breath again. He held out his bloodied hand again, growling his ultimatum. Lovina just glared at him as coldly as she could manage while he turned and stumbled inside.

Once he was gone, she let herself breathe again. Dio, she needed to do something about him. She spent a few moments cleaning up some of the largest pieces of broken plate before opening the doors cautiously only to find the captain passed out on a bench. Completely out cold. Despite her still racing heartbeat, Lovina found herself with a tiny smirk gracing the corners of her lips. Grazi, Dio. She wouldn't have to go through the trouble of drugging him now. All she needed was some rope.

Wasting even less time than before, she rushed around the chapel to a broom closet, finding some lengths of rope. "Feli!" she called, her voice echoing faintly around the cavernous room. "Feli! Get over here!"

Her little brother peeked out several moments later from behind a pew. "W-what is it Sorella? What's going on? Who is that man? Why did he try to hurt me? What's wrong with him? Did he-"

"Shut up and help me!" Lovina snapped, undoing a rope to begin tying him up. "I'll explain when I have time, but right now you need to shut the fuck up and do something!" She tossed one over to him, ignoring his squeals as he failed to catch the stupid thing. She got set on tying his ankles up, beckoning her brother over to help turn him over carefully so she could bind his wrists behind his back. Getting the unconscious man upstairs proved to not be fun, as the siblings were not renowned for their strength. It was a struggle, but the managed to get him up the stairs. The second he was there, Lovina ordered her little brother away, practically shoving him down the stairs. She set to work on securing him to the bed more, not wanting to take any chances on him this time. She had his arms and legs secured before she could breathe easily again. At last, she would be remotely safe around him. The girl took a moment to rest before daring to leave him alone for a minute to gather what she needed for him. Hard as it was, she would need to pretend that he was just another unfortunate soul that needed treatment – at least that's what she used to convince herself with as she gathered food and some aforementioned medical supplies. Bringing it up to the room where he was still out like a dead candle, she forced herself to work, stripping back his tattered shirt as best she could to find and treat his wounds, which she was somewhat shocked to find many of. What the hell happened to this bastard… She grimaced and started doing her job, cleaning and bandaging wounds with as much gentleness and care as she could muster up for the man. Which wasn't saying too much, but it was something.

Being knocked out cold had its advantages; for starters, it kept the Mediterranean native from feeling the unpleasantness of constant hunger pangs as well as the poor way he was handled when he was dragged up the stairs by his far too kind hosts. If he'd been awake, he would have openly thanked them for their care. As if. Even in his dreams he could feel the discomfort when a pair of too rough hands and another, much more hesitant pair touched the wrong places under his clothing where cells struggled to close the nasty gashes scattered around his chest, clumped with dried blood, surrounded by an angry-looking red tone where salt served to irritate the skin further. He wasn't awake to witness himself being bound to the bed, and the moment his back met the mattress, the remaining discomfort faded completely for what he could only guess was a couple of hours.

It must have been that, and so much longer, because the moment he woke up he expected to be greeted by the pale colored walls of the church, not by a dusty wooden roof. Nor did he expect to be unable to itch his nose when he was certain a bug of sorts had decided to use it as its new home. Instead, the rattling of a bed frame sounded throughout the empty room, followed by another, more desperate series of rattles when Antonio realized he was rendered immobile. Growling under his breath, the green eyed man flashed his eyes across the room for any signs of life. Had he been left there to rot? Had he been captured? No, the faint fragrance of Lovina's perfume still lingered in his clothing, the air generally wasn't musky if only because the window was open. As far as he could tell, the bed was relatively clean also and he then realized his wounds had been treated. It was a rather messy job, compared to what he was used to- but that was expected after their last brawl together.

Realization then dawned on him, Lovina had done this.

"Lovina! Hijo de tu puta madre, que rayos es esto?! (Son of a bitch, what the hell is this?!)" Any form of composure was lost then. His wrists burned with the rope grinding against his skin every time he struggled and shook the bed frame, but he was convinced they were becoming looser. If not, he could always draw attention to himself and find a way out.

"Lovina! Fe-" After a moment's thought, racking his mind for the proper name, Antonio continued. "Feliciano! Come here!" The foreign language felt bitter on his tongue, he despised using English almost as much as Dutch. The struggling continued until his chest was sent heaving up and down, to no avail. Concluding he'd been going on about this the wrong way- that and the fact that he was too tired to continue struggling against the bindings, the Spanish captain used his fingers to prod at the knots just inches away. Double knots, the ropes were looser at the top, the first few rings hung lazily over the last two that dug into his skin. He couldn't determine his feet's condition but he guessed they were at the same stage. Seeing as no form of twisting would free him, Antonio wracked his mind for more ideas. He could bite his way through, it would work if he wasn't interrupted after the ruckus he made earlier.

Lovina had long since retreated downstairs after her initial treatments were done. She sure as hell didn't want to spend any more time in that room with him than she needed to, out cold or not. Finally done bandaging up his extensive injuries and cleaning him off a little from the dried blood and seaweed that covered him, she took her things downstairs to clean and put away, save for anything she would need to give him. Ha, as if she actually put shit away. She had set her brother on the task of cleanup, from the supplies to the broken plate just outside the chapel doors. Hey, she was justified. She was the one taking care of the violent psychopath, whom she had forbidden Feliciano to get within a hundred feet of.

Her pest of a brother did nag the crap out of her about what the hell was going on, so while he was cleaning, she told him a vague version of the events in exchange for him doing all the work. She had explained it as some deluded crazy who she had found on the side of the road who obviously needed to be saved, in both body and soul. The easily impressed teenager was enraptured by his older sister's story of goodwill, forgetting the whole part about how he was possibly a demented killer.

Her story got cut short by a clamor coming from above them. She looked up lazily. Their little friend had woken up at last, it seemed. And he did not seem happy at all. She excused herself from entertaining her fratello to make her way upstairs, as leisurely as she pleased. She wasn't in too much of a rush now that he was confined. His thrashing only got louder as she neared the door, almost making her worry further about him. Not really. It wasn't like he was having a seizure or anything.

She opened the door somewhat carefully, surveying the man before she fully opened the door, straightening her spine. A small but unmistakably smug smile crossed her lips. She admitted to herself that this amused her. A lot. Finally, finally, she had outsmarted the volatile pirate. He couldn't hurt her if he couldn't move, and as unorthodox as it was, she enjoyed seeing him at her mercy. It wasn't so much his submissiveness as much as her being in control again, for once. Let's see how he liked it. She had a feeling he didn't find himself in this position too often.

The brunette made her way slowly across the room, watching him intently the whole time as she sat down in a chair near his bed, still just out of arm's length. Her face broke into an even larger grin. She was asking for it now. "So," she started off slowly and leisurely, looking him up and down with ease. "Let's cut the crap. If you ever want to eat again, you're going to answer a few questions. Starting with who the fuck you are."


	5. Chapter 5

Having lost track of the dust particles floating overhead after the hundred and fifty-seventh counted, he resorted to entertaining himself by imagining the most gruesome ways to remove a face from a body; something he well intended to put to practice the moment he broke free from his pathetic excuse of house arrest. A task that proved to be made to look simple, it was only rope after all, being a pirate gave him plenty of experience handling the straw material, albeit tricky when every limb in your body refused to cooperate and behaved like deadweight. Admittedly, the thought of gnawing himself free had crossed his mind once or twice. Had he really grown weak in just over twenty four hours? Not only was it a disgrace to be held captive in such a- /bimbo/ manner, on a bed like some sort of rape victim, but he wasn't being treated like an actual threat. Save for the blasted ropes that /wouldn't budge/ and only fed on his frustration, Antonio was left in the dark, not a second thought made to his presence- or lack thereof.  
A deep, agitated rumble left the back of his throat upon hearing foreign creaks, not the typical groan of a worn house as he'd learned this one did a lot of, but steps. Easy, slow-paced steps that ground into his nerves; she was doing it on purpose, he could feel it. Mossy eyes narrowed. She could damn well thank her lucky stars looks couldn't kill then.

"Like what you see, princess?" The words were barely coherent through the barrier of his teeth grinding together to keep from lashing out and further embarrassing himself in a failed attempt to escape, he'd save his energy for later at night when no one was around. If he was lucky, he could steal both of them and sell them to a cat house after he had his way with them, particularly Lovina.

All perverse thoughts ceased then, at the mention of food and the question. It was then his turn to smirk back at her, playing on his position to stall, not for his inability to reply, let alone fear; but for a shot at getting some of his dignity back. "I'm your master, and you're digging yourself a deeper hole than you fell upon when you decided to cross me."  
Fighting all temptation edging in his mind, the large hands, just a few safe inches from her, even farther from her neck, remained clenched together.

"Do you plan on letting me go anytime soon? At this rate I'll have to be amputated from poor blood circulation, for a girl, you really suck at using your hands," Yet another jab was made at her, when an afterthought crossed his mind. "I wonder if you're just as bad with your hands down there." After what seemed like decades, Antonio found himself genuinely smiling- sure, at Lovina's expense, but he found the idea highly amusing and frankly, couldn't wait for a chance to test his theory out.

What in the name of Hell was he talking about? Lovina's smug smile vanished, replaced with a scowl as he went on with his threats and insults. Well, she thought they were insults anyway, some of them. She couldn't tell. For all her self-confidence, always bossy and ordering people around like she was some queen, she was in actuality a very sheltered young woman. Being raised with only the most religious of backgrounds will do that to someone. If any of his remarks had sexual implications behind them, they were completely lost on her. It certainly wouldn't serve her well, having absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

She blinked at him when he was done, unimpressed (mostly because she had no clue what the point he was trying to make was). As for his remark about amputation… "That's not my problem," she insisted, crossing her arms. "You got yourself into this in every fucking conceivable way. Losing your hands would be the least of what you deserve. And you can't order me around. I'm not the one tied to a fucking bed." She shook her head in disgust. "I am not your fucking slave, you demon spawn. I will not ever serve a mortal man, much less an inhuman piece of filth like you." She spat out the last words, wishing that he would just understand that she wasn't something that couldn't fight back. Like he had already done, he could try to force her into submission, but she would never let her spirit be broken. If he was going to fight her, then let the war begin. That was it with her. Weak woman or not, religious or not, she had a fire inside her that would never be broken. Never had and as far as she hoped, never will. But she didn't expect him to get that.

It was time to bring back her first weapon. She glanced over at the food she had left to grow cold on the small table. Ignoring any other remarks, she stood up and crossed over to it, picking it up and starting to head slowly towards the door. "If you want to be uncooperative, fine then. I guess it would be a shame, to you anyway. It would be such a shame if you got trapped in here and starved, perhaps if I were to, I don't know, misplace the key." With her back slightly to him, she gave herself a small brief smile again. He would probably have some smart remark to try and threaten her again, but she would give herself victories where she could find them. En garde.

Any innuendo soared over Lovina's head, definitely not what Antonio expected. His mood now spoiled once more. In a way, he found it endearing and fully to his advantage that he could get away with voicing his obscene thoughts; though the honeymoon effect only lasted until she opened her mouth yet again and, to his horror, took the plate of food he only just then realized had sat beside him during the ordeal. He should have known the smell of bread was beyond a moorage; for someone under the name of God, she had more cruel bones in her body than he cared to count. Definitely more than a hundred and fifty-seven.

Judging by the fact that she slowed to a stop within earshot, Antonio expected she assumed he'd speak up in protest to her (hopefully) empty threats. He took as much time as her patience granted to weigh out his options, waiting until he saw the shift of her legs as she made her remaining way to the doorway to speak up, "What would your God think, leaving one of his children to suffer in their time of need?" Carefully, he watched her body language for any response, "Better yet, what would your people think when they hear tortured yells from up here during the priest's lecture?" While crying like a lost puppy wasn't his ideal form of an escape, he was willing to pull as many strings as his stage of puppetry, human manipulation, allowed.

When she gave no response- why would she, it was as if the Italian went fully out of her way to defy all of his knowledge on human behavior; not that he contained anything outside of fear and power, but that's beside the point- Antonio closed his eyes and parted his lips to speak before closing them again, "If you feed me, I promise to stay away your rat—brother. Maybe even teach him a thing or two about self-defense,"

Hoping the bribe was enough to earn himself a ray of sunlight from the forever sunny female, he opened his eyes in the best sincere look he could muster, "Por favor."

Oh, now he was pulling the God card on her. Hm. Not completely expected, but it made sense. The threats weren't working, so it was time to try something else to make her… her what? Fear him? Release him? What exactly? Lovina paused midstep, staying motionless to hear his argument. Let's see how much of what he said was actually valid. Suffering in their time of need? She dismissed that one. "I gave you a place to stay, I dressed your wounds and you had access to food and clothing. Not my goddamn fault you got those privileges revoked." What else? Something about tortured yells? Granted, not pleasant, but solvable. "Seeing as you aren't in a position to stop me, I could easily bind your mouth as well. I might do that anyway." Very tempting. Last argument?

That one gave her pause. She turned slightly towards him, her gaze slightly downcast and not anywhere near him. He was bringing her brother into this again? The promise of safety and defense… the most tempting offer yet. She would do anything for the little twerp, to keep him safe and healthy. But was letting him around this man a good choice?

What the hell was she thinking?! Lovina blinked to herself for a moment, not believing she had even considered it for a second. Of course not! He was some sort of mortalized devil, trying to twist her mind to do what he wanted. She glanced up at him, her eyes filled with fear again for a second. It was a stunning realization. This was indeed what the devil was, attractive and clever and doing anything he could to wrap her around his finger, from threats to violence to false promises. God no. She recoiled from him suddenly, her eyes now rapidly burning with hatred. "Why the FUCK would I trust you to keep your promise?" she hissed. "You're barely even human, don't fucking deny it! What ARE you? No human being is capable of what you're trying to do to me!"

What was he?

If his eyes, limbs and other characteristics weren't a dead giveaway already, he didn't know what was. Actually, he quite liked the thought of not being human; very well knowing that he was, the idiocy that plagued his race pushed Antonio into what he became. Glad to be the least associated with mankind. It was the idiocy of greed and thirst to rule that caused mayhem in his pueblo, when neighbors became enemies all after one title, willing to put their closest ties at stake for the sake of a crown, in its metaphorical sense; the bigger picture was far uglier when the actual head holding the crown decided it was time to limit their people of their rights, the audacity of his father that wiped his mother's name from the earth, and for what reason? He wouldn't say. Like it or not, Antonio was the spitting image and just as tempted to inform her of it, but what would she know?

Instead, he provided to her the most wicked grin his lips ever executed as he clearly pronounced each venomous syllable with precise care. "Your savior."  
He didn't wait for her to react, he'd had enough of that when he was stranded on the bed for half a day's worth of time, asleep or not; the Spaniard had anticipated the time in which he'd separate himself from the condemned furniture too long now to willingly wait another second.

What felt like minutes, too slow for his liking, in reality took only mere seconds; invested in them were the desperation of a mad man, eager for his freedom and his prize, setting a plan to action that would surely never fail. When the ripping sound of rope breaking and the pop of a dislocated wrist accompanied his cry of war, Antonio was quick to repeat the action- with the aid of a free, if not nearly useless hand to free the other. His legs took much less effort on his part, the rope was close to thinning out with itself and ripped with relative ease if he kicked his feet hard enough, in the right angle; literally.

By then, he heard the definite slam of a door being shut. If Lovina hadn't been bluffing, she had a key. His green gaze immediately fell from the sound of a locking doorknob to his already useless arm as he made the quick decision to put it to good use, probably the last task it'd be capable of performing for at least a month if his wrist healed well enough. "You're not getting away from me, Corazon. You're mine." With each slam of his shoulder against the oak wood, he could feel the door become looser as well as the fatigue of improper rest catch up to him. Had it not been for the adrenaline rushing through him, Antonio would have collapsed long ago. A splintering crash snapped his attention back in time to witness the door's hinges hand uselessly along the doorway; the door itself colliding solidly with the floor.


End file.
